Chapter Text
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
For one thing Coin was supposed to be taken out quietly after everything had settled down.
Almost from the moment they arrived in Thirteen Haymitch had been amassing enough dirt on Alma Coin to get the wretched cow to agree to a peaceful transition of power and free election. That was, of course, assuming that Coin wasn’t crazy enough to want to court another rebellion after they had just got done with this one - which wasn’t a given when it came to Coin.
He had a timeline and a plan and all the pieces in place for when the time was right.
But that crazy bitch just couldn’t help herself. Killing Prim and then proposing another Hunger Games like that was even in the realm of acceptable things to suggest to a room full of Victors.
(He didn’t blame Jo, damaged as she was … Enobaria was just a psychopath)
Haymitch had no choice but to act immediately. Or rather give Katniss permission to act.
There was no telling what sort of damage Coin might do before they actually managed to form a stable government.
The districts Council had all been hand picked by himself and Plutarch. It was convenient that Coin hadn’t give enough of a shit about the districts to bother putting her own people on there.
And as little as Coin thought of the districts, their opinion of Thirteen was even lower. Thirteen might have freed them of the shackles, but they’d also let them endure the Hunger Games for 75 years. It was the worst kept secret that the only reason Thirteen had come to their aid was because of their own fertility issues. The Council was never gonna be friendly with Coin and if things had gone to plan they would have held her in check until he could get her to handover power to a newly elected president.
Now that same Council was in charge of deciding what to do about the assassination of their would-be-president and he doubted even Boggs’ second was sad to see her go.
It was Plutarch who had said they needed someone else to stand in for Twelve - that it would be too risky if Haymitch was there. They couldn’t risk showing their hand and letting Coin see the true purpose of the Council. She was too power hungry to share even a smidgen of power with a Victor, especially one who was so closely linked to the movement.
(Haymitch was convinced Coin had put an order in to kill Tralla Lyme, though she had denied it to her dying breath)
If there had been anyone else to represent Twelve none of this would have happened. Maybe he should have just handed the reigns to over Gale Hawthorne like Plutarch said.
But Hawthorne was almost as bloodthirsty as Coin. If Haymitch had any say in it that kid would be kept as far away from the seat of power - and Katniss - as possible.
It was supposed to be Thom Wilson, a mine worker and all around decent guy who had been part of the rebellion movement in Twelve. But with the assassination and all that entailed, Thom had stepped down, protesting that he didn’t want to be a part of Big Politics.
And Haymitch had taken his place.
When the time came Haymitch made his preference clear. He was the first one to cast his vote for Commander Yvonne Paylor from District Eight before anyone else even opened their mouths.
Then one by one they had sealed his fate.
By Council decree, Haymitch Abernathy was named acting President of Panem.
And his first act as president would be trying the Mockingjay for treason.
If they’d all just gone and voted Paylor in like they were meant to they could have just quietly dealt with things. Sure it wouldn’t have looked great letting the girl just get away with murder like that, but no one would have reason to question the decision.
Because it was him, the whole thing would require a lot more finesse. Something that had the appearance of fairness so that people would know you couldn’t go around murdering anyone you liked just because you were a Victor.
There was no getting out of this without some kind of spectacle.
And he couldn’t even help them plan the trial strategy because he was the fucking president and he needed to appear impartial.
“How do they expect me to stay impartial?” Haymitch exploded at anyone who would listen. “That’s my fuckin’ kid.”
“I know, Haymitch,” Effie said, surprisingly patient for someone who had heard this rant more than a dozen times already. She didn’t point out that at seventeen - almost eighteen - the girl was too old for him to still be calling her a kid. Or that she wasn’t really his kid - not by blood anyway but in every other way that mattered.
She also didn’t bother to shift her attention from the little pot of purple nail polish she was carefully applying to her nails. After their stint in Thirteen Effie was quick to embrace her colours again.
“You could help them,” he suggested hopefully. “I could tell you what to do and you could help them.”
“Haymitch,” she said as she finally looked up from her task, still patient but the slow way she said his name more than telling. “We need to be clever about this.
“Sending your mistress to give hints to the defence is not clever,” she added pointedly.
“You ain’t my mistress,” he grumbled back, taking umbrage with the one part of the statement he could disagree with.
“Would you prefer wife?” Effie asked, a lot less patiently. It was the beginning of an argument that he had managed to avoid pretty effectively since she arrived in the Capitol with Annie and Jo.
“That’s what all my records say, by the way,” she continued, her tone as sharp as her perfectly raised eyebrow. “Only I don’t recall the wedding.”
“I had Beetee hack your records,” he explained unapologetically. He hadn’t trusted Coin to keep her word when it came to Effie so he made sure their former President had no choice in the matter. They could do what they wanted to an Escort, but people wouldn’t look kindly on her going after a Victor’s only family.
“She couldn’t kill you if you’re my wife,” he added with a scowl. “I was tryin’ to keep you safe.”
She softened a little at his explanation, but only a little. “That's very sweet. But next time you have some crazy plan to protect me, perhaps you could tell me so I know how to react when introduced as Mrs Abernathy,” she scolded, though he knew her heart wasn’t all the way in it. “You are making a bad habit of this, Haymitch.”
“It shouldn’t happen again,” he promised, which was really no promise at all. The words didn’t come with an apology or an assurance that he wouldn’t do the same again if needed. He would do whatever it took to protect the people he cared about and if that meant keeping them in the dark then so be it.
Effie only raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing the loophole that he’d left himself.
“They need a better strategy. The insanity thing is never going to work,” he said, bringing them back on topic.
“I know they won’t let you see her - but I assure you, Haymitch, she is doing a fairly convincing job of proving their defence,” Effie told him primly. It was her Escort voice and told him exactly how grim things were for Katniss. It was the same way that she’d talk after watching a couple of twelve year olds cut down in the blood bath.
“It’s not about that,” he waved off, trying not to dwell on Katniss’ captivity. “If they declare her insane they’ll have to release her into her mother’s custody. You really think Asterid is up to that?”
“I didn’t realise you and Mrs Everdeen were on a first name basis,” she said, a touch of something brittle in her tone. He snorted back a retort, thinking that if she was going to act upset about him claiming her as his wife then she really needed to rein in her jealousy.
“You’re right,” Effie said after she’d considered the suggestion properly. “She hardly visited Katniss after the bombing and she doesn’t seem very interested when I try to inform her of Katniss’ progress.”
“She’s never been much of a mother to Katniss,” he said keeping his tone neutral. His old ties to Burdock made him reluctant to talk bad about his best friend’s wife, but his loyalty to the girl would always win out.
“There are clinics,” Effie offered, though her resolute tone told him that wasn’t an option worth pursuing. She jumped to her feet as a new idea took hold. “You could always take her …” she began, almost brightening at the idea she was forming. But she had already seen the folly before she finished the sentence. “Oh.
“I suppose that would put me out of the question also?” she queried dully without needing him to answer the question
They wanted him as far away from the trial as possible. No one would be granting Haymitch guardianship of Katniss. And they certainly wouldn’t be granting it to his long-time paramour and former Escort.
“Well, what do you suggest?” Effie asked. It should have sounded exasperated or annoyed, but instead it just sounded hopeless.
He didn’t need to think about the answer. He’d spent every spare moment he had since the execution with his nose in old law books looking for anything that would get them out of this mess.
“Self-defence.”
“Self-defence,” she repeated incredulously. “You want to argue that she shot Coin with an arrow from 15 meters away in self-defence?”
“Yeah,” Haymitch said sheepishly. It sounded a little ridiculous now that he’d heard it said aloud, but he soldiered on. “They had this battered woman defence before the Dark Days - where the wife is just beaten down for years until she finally snaps. It’s not like she was under attack in the moment but she knew if she didn’t do something he’d eventually kill her.
“And Coin was basically torturing Katniss for months and sending her into active war zones without proper protection. Hoping Peeta would do the job for her,” he said, explaining his argument. “It was her or Coin.”
Effie was grinning at him now, closing in on him like a predator. There was a familiar hungry look in her eyes, one that promised him all kinds of debauched things. Her hands slid up his chest and then behind his neck like she was angling for a kiss. “Now that - my darling - is clever.”
For a woman who was all about appearance, Effie seemed to get a real kick out of intelligence and cunning. It was probably why she adored Peeta as much as she did - the boy was as quick as he was sweet.
“You know my father is a jurist,” she reminded him.
“Your father who you haven’t spoken to in decades,” Haymitch pointed out.
“All the more reason for it to avoid suspicion,” she said innocently even as a wicked grin pulled to her lips.
“You don’t think they’ll question my mistress’ father joining the defence?” he asked her, more to tease than anything.
“That is your wife’s estranged father,” she said digging her pointer finger into his chest. “And no, I don’t think they will.”